by Val Wood
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
As he travelled back to Amsterdam Frederik mused that this had been the happiest visit yet. The only flaw was that Margriet wasn’t with him. One day, he thought, she could choose for herself where she would like to live, but he hoped that it would always be close to him.
He had had a long talk with Hans about his future and had told him that there would be an opening for him in his Amsterdam office if he decided to go into business. ‘I’ll put your name down,’ he had joked, but the boy had said very seriously that he would be pleased if he did. Accordingly, on arriving back at his office he discussed with his manager the prospect of employing Nicolaas Jansen’s son when he finished his schooling.
‘If he is anything like his father,’ said Aarden, who remembered Nicolaas, ‘he will be a welcome asset. Are you staying a few days? I wanted to talk to you about how well the bulbs are selling. We have had a huge number of growers contacting us and wanting to use us for cut flowers in the spring as well as bulbs in the autumn. A fantastic success, I would say.’
‘Then let’s hope it will continue,’ Frederik said. ‘And it’s down to you and the team who have worked so hard to make it so. I’m returning to England tomorrow night, so we’ll discuss everything in the morning; now I must go to see my moeder and give her some of my time before she feels neglected.’
Aarden grinned. ‘My moeder is the same. Please give Mevrouw Vandergroene my kind regards, sir, and tell her she is very welcome here at the office at any time.’ He was well aware that Frederik’s mother was a major shareholder.
Gerda welcomed him back with a smile. ‘How’s the tulip business?’
‘Thriving,’ he answered. ‘You will be pleased to hear that we are having great success with them, so you have no need to worry about a poverty-stricken old age.’
‘Pah!’ she said. ‘You can’t fool me, not when I’ve fooled so many.’ She put the kettle on the stove, and with her back to him remarked, ‘It is the widow I think who brings you back, is it not? Not the tulips at all.’
He was silent for a moment and then sat down in one of the easy chairs and folded his arms. He sighed. Sometimes he grew tired of the secrets. He didn’t want to hide Lia away; he wanted to talk about her and explain that his wish was to be with her, that his empty life with Rosamund gave him no happiness at all.
His mother turned to face him, curious about his silence when normally he was quick to respond. She sat down opposite him.
‘You can tell me, kindje,’ she said softly. ‘Anything.’
‘But I’m no longer an infant, Moe,’ he said in a despairing voice. ‘I am a grown man, and I’m split in two.’
She leaned forward and patted his hand. ‘You will always be my kindje, just as Anna and Bartel are,’ she said. ‘So tell me, is it the widow Jansen who gives you such heartbreak?’
‘No!’ He shook his head. ‘She doesn’t give me heartbreak. My heart breaks because I can’t be with her and I’m trapped in a loveless marriage.’
‘Ah! Does she love you, this widow?’
‘Her name is Lia, and yes, she does.’
She considered. ‘I cannot condone separation, but—’
‘Neither can I hurt Margriet,’ he interrupted, adding adamantly, ‘and it would. She is a kind little girl and wouldn’t want to see her mother unhappy, as she would be if we separated. I’d be condemning Rosamund to a life alone, looked down on by society.’
His mother sat back and sighed. ‘You were always such a principled child. I thought that one day those principles would floor you.’ She pursed her mouth. ‘Then you must wait. Wait until Margriet is grown up and has her own life, then buy your wife another property where she can entertain her friends.’ She wrinkled her lips as if to say that she doubted she had any. ‘And you can then make your own arrangements.’ She shrugged. ‘How long will that be? Ten years? Less. Time travels so fast.’
He smiled wryly. She had always been positive, always sure that she knew best, when often she didn’t. ‘What a great help you are, Moe,’ he murmured. ‘Of course you are right. I must be patient.’
He said goodbye to her the next morning after breakfast and tenderly kissed her cheek. He was planning to spend the rest of the day at the office discussing with Aarden the possibility of selling even more horticultural products. In addition, he intended to put something on file to ensure that Hans Jansen would be taken on as a member of the company if that was what he wanted.
At four o’clock he packed up his briefcase, had a few final words with Aarden and left the office to go to the docks. He hadn’t booked a passage but there was always plenty of room at this time of year.
It was already dark. There was a strong blustery wind, and he realized that it would be a very rough crossing. He was heading for the passenger ferry when he heard his name being hailed. There were few lights except for the oil lamps positioned by the gangplank, but someone was walking towards him and waving his arm in greeting.
‘Goodness, you’ve got good eyesight, Hendrik,’ he said as Hendrik Sanderson approached him. ‘Are you coming or going?’
‘I was going home. I’ve been visiting my moeder, but the ferry is cancelled. There’s a storm expected.’
Frederik blew an exasperated breath. ‘Oh, no!’ Now he saw the chain across the gangplank and a seaman positioned by it. ‘What about the packets? Are any of those running?’
‘I haven’t enquired. Alice would have my hide if I sailed in one of those old tubs.’
Frederik laughed. ‘They cross constantly! They’re perfectly safe, just a rougher passage, that’s all. How is she? Alice?’
‘She’s expecting another child; she reckons she’s going to lock me in the basement after this one is delivered. That’s why I will only travel on a passenger ship; she made me promise.’
Frederik shrugged. ‘Ah well, in that case …’ He pondered for a moment. ‘Well, I’ve travelled several times on Simpson’s packet, the Mary Brown, and if she hasn’t already left I’ll go on her. I trust my cargo to her so I should trust myself.’
Sanderson was obviously weighing up the question of whether to overrule his wife’s command or wait until the following day. ‘No,’ he decided. ‘If Alice should find out, I’ll be in the doghouse for weeks. Women, eh? We’re ruled by them, aren’t we?’
Although Frederik said he agreed wholeheartedly, he reflected ruefully that Rosamund probably didn’t give much thought to how he travelled or when. Margriet, however, always asked him which ship was he crossing on, and had said that she too would like to go on the ‘little ship’ sometime.
He shook hands with Hendrik and they went their separate ways, Frederik towards where he thought the packet might be berthed and Hendrik back towards the line of carriages waiting outside the dock. Hendrik paused, turning to look back but Frederik had disappeared into the darkness. The wind was getting stronger and more blustery, whistling and rattling through the riggings and furled canvas of the many ships, and as he climbed into a cab Hendrik felt a sudden unease. He wished he’d persuaded Frederik to come back to his hotel, where they could have enjoyed a companionable supper, sharing a bottle of wine and a chat. Still, he thought philosophically, he’s made this journey often enough; he knows what he’s doing.
The gangplank on the Mary Brown was open and Frederik boarded. He called to the captain, who was about to go below with a bucket of water in each hand.
‘Are you sailing tonight, Captain?’
Captain Simpson put up his thumb. ‘Aye. Are you coming with us?’
‘Please. If you have space.’
He put down the buckets. ‘Enough,’ he said. ‘Only three passengers, but plenty of cargo, so I’d like to sail tonight.’
‘What about the weather?’
‘It’ll be rough, no doubt about that, but she’s a sturdy little lady. The firemen are re-laying the fire bed; the trimmers are standing by so we’ll be ready to sail in half an hour. Find a bunk and help yourself to coffee. You know the drill.’
> ‘I do,’ Frederik said. ‘Thanks.’
He went below at the fore of the ship, finding a cabin at the same level as the boiler room where he could hear and feel its thrum. He took off his coat and put on a warm jumper and the fur hat that covered his ears, and put his coat back on again. It would be cold on deck once they were under way. He went up to the caboose, where the kettle was steaming gently on the stove, found some cocoa and made himself a hot drink with a lot of sugar in it.
He was only halfway through it when he felt movement beneath his feet. We’re away; good. Let’s hope for a steady voyage.
Captain Simpson came up as he was finishing the cocoa; his face was rimed with coal dust and sweat. ‘It was touch and go,’ he said, reaching for a cup and the kettle. ‘Damned boiler, although ’fireman says it’s not the boiler, but the coal. Reckons it’s not right, that it doesn’t lay well, but I telled him it’s ’best Yorkshire coal, can’t better it. I should know – I worked as a coal trimmer before I got my own vessel.’
He quickly drank from his cup and put it down. ‘Once we’re out of port you’d be better off going below. It’s going to be a stormy night. One passenger’s already changed his mind and gone ashore.’ He grinned. ‘It’s the tough ones who stick it out.’
‘Do you think it will be bad?’
Simpson lifted his head to look at him. ‘Aye. Reckon we’ll have to batten down. But we’ll be all right, God willing.’
Amen to that, Frederik thought. Maybe I should have waited after all. We all make mistakes; maybe this is one of mine.
He began to suspect that it was the worst mistake he had ever made when they were struck by the towering waves of the open sea and he was thrown out of his bunk, crashing to the floor. He climbed back in again and felt the churning of the cocoa he had drunk and wanted to be sick. It was pitch dark in the cabin and he wondered if there was a bucket should he need one.
He lay still, trying to sleep, but once more the ship tilted and he slid off the bunk again. Sighing, he took the blanket and pillow off the bunk and arranged them on the floor. He didn’t sleep, what with the pitch and roll of the ship and the shouts of the crew, but at some point he must have dropped into an uneasy doze that was full of voices calling things like ‘bear down’ or ‘luff to starboard’; at other times he thought he could hear Margriet calling ‘Papa, where are you?’ and Lia crying ‘Frederik!’
Someone banged on his door. ‘You all right, sir?’
‘I think so.’ Frederik raised himself up on his elbow as Captain Simpson entered. ‘Where are we? How much longer?’
The skipper’s face was grey with fatigue. ‘We can see land, but it’ll be a while yet. We’re still having problems with the boiler. It’s making too much steam.’
Fredrik frowned. ‘Isn’t that good?’
‘No, it’s overheating. Might even blow. Put on your warmest gear and come up on deck. We might need every man to the pumps.’
‘Dear God!’ Frederik scrambled to his feet and put on his boots. He was still dressed in his jumper and trousers, and pulling on hat, coat and scarf he staggered after the captain to the nearest companionway. Up on deck the wind thundered through the sails and the sky couldn’t be seen from the deep troughs of heavy seas.
The captain gave him a length of rope and told him to fasten it round his waist and tie the other end to a spar or a bulwark so he wouldn’t be washed overboard. And if he did that, he thought, and the ship went down, then he’d go with it. He said as much to the skipper, who said, ‘Aye, or we might all be blown to kingdom come,’ and ran to the stern and disappeared below.
Frederik clasped his hands tightly together and only then noticed the other passenger further along the deck. He appeared to be muttering prayers.
Is it too late for prayers? he thought. Have I lived a good enough life? What do I believe? That if I should go down with this ship I will one day be with my loved ones again?
Margriet. He gave a small sob. What would become of her if he should die? Who would take care of her? Lia was a strong woman, but how would she cope with the loss of a second love? But Margriet – mijn lieveling dochter. Rosamund won’t be able to manage. Would his mother take her if he should be lost? He tried not to think of it, to be positive, but dear God in heaven, what a stupid mistake. To rush home as if time was so important that life should be put at risk.
There came a sudden explosion as the boiler blew and black smoke issued from the aft companionway; a figure staggered out with his clothing on fire and then the captain behind him. Frederik started towards them to help.
‘No! Get back!’ It was the skipper’s voice, husky as if scorched. ‘Abandon ship! Save yourselves!’
Then came another bigger, mightier explosion and the sea and the sky were filled with searing light and roaring flames that turned the crashing towering waves to scarlet and the ship to matchwood, and Frederik knew no more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It was Hendrik Sanderson who first heard the rumour that a ship had gone down between Amsterdam and Hull. He caught snatches of the seamen’s conversation on his voyage home the next day, and noticed that some of them were searching the surrounding sea with telescopes. Eventually, feeling uneasy, he found his way to the bridge to make enquiries of the captain.
‘It’s true,’ the captain told him. ‘It’s feared that a ship is lost. There were reports early this morning that an explosion was heard last night close to the English shore.’
‘What kind of ship? Have you heard?’
‘No, I’m sorry, I don’t know anything more. But there was debris suggesting it was a small vessel, perhaps a cargo packet.’
Hendrik turned away feeling sick to his stomach. It couldn’t be. Surely not. He couldn’t curb his anxiety for the rest of the voyage and as soon as they were berthed in Hull he made his way to the Dock Office to enquire. But they couldn’t or were unwilling to say whether a ship was missing.
‘Come back later, sir, if you would. We’ll have a better idea once we’ve logged everyone in. Many ships might have delayed their sailings because of the weather and not arrived back yet.’
It gave him some small hope, but he was still uneasy. At home he confessed his fears to his wife, who put her arms round him and held him tight. ‘Thank God you didn’t take that ship,’ she wept. ‘We must hold fast to the hope that it wasn’t Frederik’s.’
But although Hendrik nodded, he didn’t feel much hope, for when he had asked the shipping clerk if the Mary Brown had returned, the man had evaded his question.
He had coffee with Alice and then made his way to Frederik’s office by the dockside, where he asked to speak to the manager.
‘I might be worrying unnecessarily, Reynoldson, but have you heard anything from Mr Vandergroene? I met him in Amsterdam the night before last.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I, erm, that is …’ He took a deep breath. ‘The passenger ferry was cancelled, and he said he was going to come home on the Mary Brown. I don’t suppose …’ He didn’t need to say any more, for the expression on the manager’s face told him all he needed to know.
‘Is there a chance that he changed his mind, sir?’ Reynoldson asked in a low voice. ‘Perhaps took a ship the next morning?’
‘Would he not be home by now? And if he had taken the passenger ship I would have seen him; it wasn’t full. But you’re right, he might have changed his mind; we must hope that he did.’
‘Yes,’ Reynoldson murmured. ‘And if our worst fears are realized … as you are a friend of Frederik’s would you be so kind as to accompany me and whoever in authority might need to be there when we visit Mrs Vandergroene? I – that is …’ It was as if he had run out of words to say.
Poor man, Sanderson thought. He’s overwhelmed. He knows more about the missing ship than he’s admitting. ‘As soon as you have news, one way or another, will you send for me?’ he said quietly, and Reynoldson nodded and opened the door to see him out.
A message came the following morning, confirming his f
ears. Alice asked her husband if he would like her to go with him to visit Rosamund, along with Reynoldson and the official from the port authority. ‘Or will there be too many of us?’
‘I’m fearful of upsetting you in your condition,’ he said. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to you.’
She rested his hand on her belly. ‘This child is quite safe and you know that I am strong, but I’m thinking of Margriet. That poor child adored her father.’
Rosamund’s reaction was much worse than they expected. After her initial refusal to believe the news, she began to scream at them, demanding that Florence go at once and bring Margriet home from school.
‘What are we to do?’ she shrieked. ‘How can we survive alone? This can’t be right. There’s been a mistake!’
Alice whispered to her husband that she would go to fetch Margriet herself and that Florrie should go at once to the Vandergroenes’ doctor and ask him to come to Rosamund immediately. He didn’t want her to go alone, but after speaking to the maid Alice came back into the room and whispered that the two of them would go together as the doctor’s residence was close by the school.
‘What’s happened, ma’am?’ Florrie asked as they went down the steps and headed towards Market Place. ‘What’s wrong with ’mistress?’
‘It’s unhappy news, I’m afraid, my dear.’ Alice linked her arm. ‘You must be strong, not only to assist Mrs Vandergroene but most of all to help Margriet, for it will be more than she can bear.’ She told Florrie what had happened, patting her hand and uttering soothing murmurings as the girl began to weep.
They called in at the doctor’s first and delivered their message, and when they reached the dame school Alice explained to Miss Barker the reason why they were there. The teacher took them into her own small sitting room and brought Margriet to them.
‘Margriet, my dear,’ Alice said gently, ‘I’m so sorry to have to tell you that the ship your father was travelling on is missing. I have come to take you home to be with your mama.’
Margriet seemed confused by the term ‘missing’ and wrinkled her brow, pressing her lips together. ‘But Papa will be all right, won’t he? He’ll find his way home again?’